“Could you hear the explosions over here, Louise?” he asked.
“Hear them? Why, Uncle dear, we all thought the city was being bombarded by warships in the river, it sounded so near and so terrible. Alfie and I ran to the windows. It was just after eleven, I think. He called up Central at once, but the girl was so frightened she could hardly speak. She didn't know what had happened, but she was sure the Germans were destroying the city. She said another girl had seen the Zeppelins. Alfie went out at once. Oh, dear, I am so glad you are home. I was so anxious—”
“My dear child, you should be in bed,” began her uncle, taking her hand in his. He laid his other hand against her cheek, and was relieved to find it cool. “You say Alfred went out—at eleven?”
“A few minutes after eleven. He waited until all the noise had ceased. I assured him I was not the least bit nervous. He had been working so hard all evening in your study over those stupid physics.”
“And he hasn't returned? Confound him, he shouldn't have gone off and left you all alone here for two solid hours—”
“Don't be angry with him, Uncle Dawy,” pleaded the girl. “He was so excited, poor boy, he simply couldn't sit here without knowing what had happened. Besides, Hodges and two of the maids were up,—so I wasn't all alone.” She followed them into the brilliantly lighted drawing-room. “Here are the first extras. The doorman sent them up to me.”
Mrs. Carstairs dropped heavily into a chair. Her face was very white.
“How terrible,” she murmured, glancing at the huge headlines.
“I say, Frieda,” exclaimed her husband; “it's been too much for you. A drop of brandy, my dear,—”
“Nothing, thank you, Davenport. I am quite all right. The shock, you know. We were so near the place, Louise,—don't you see? Really, it was appalling.”